


The Sleep Situation

by Onmyliteraturebullshitagain



Series: And They Were Neighbors (oh my god they were neighbors) [14]
Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Domestic Fluff, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Midwest Bi Disaster Zukka, Nightmares, POV Zuko (Avatar), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, References to childhood trauma, Showing your love for someone even while you're asleep, Sleepy Cuddles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-06
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-12 14:13:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29885784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Onmyliteraturebullshitagain/pseuds/Onmyliteraturebullshitagain
Summary: Sokka and Zuko have been sharing a bed for a while now, but Zuko's still not sure how Sokka might respond to one of his nightmares. Hint: Sokka doesn't mind and is always there to help.Midwest Bi Disaster Zukka - as long as you know it's an established relationship, this can definitely just be read as a stand-alone bit of emotional support fluff
Relationships: Sokka/Zuko (Avatar)
Series: And They Were Neighbors (oh my god they were neighbors) [14]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1968508
Comments: 100
Kudos: 271





	The Sleep Situation

Zuko had mostly outgrown the nightmares. He still didn't always sleep terribly well, or for long enough, insomnia a semi-constant struggle in his life that led to his, as Sokka so lovingly called it, “heart-stopping and brain-melting levels of caffeine addiction.” But it was still better than it had been, because the nightmares were less: less frequent, less intense, less painful. It had been a long time now since he'd woken actually shouting in his sleep with his heart hammering in his chest, convinced he was in real danger. It had been a problem for a while, the nightmares, the blurred images of pain and fear and an old house and his father's face. Enough that he'd been hesitant to stay over with significant others, afraid to freak them out, wake them up, make them uncomfortable. 

But therapy, specifically for working through PTSD, had done wonders for making his brain less panicked, less susceptible to violent dreams. He wasn’t perfect now, obviously, and he still went to therapy when he needed it, but it was better. Like he was looking at the shitty memories from behind a glass door rather than from right inside them. And time, distance, the further away he got from those memories and the people they involved, the more he worked through his issues instead of burying them (as much as it fucking sucked), the easier it was to sleep without nightmares. Enough that he’d enjoyed many nights of comfortable sleep sharing a bed with Sokka. Enough that he felt safe to move in and commit to spending all his nights with Sokka from now on.

Sokka, who was warm and slept like a rock and hogged the covers. Sokka, who sometimes muttered or kicked Zuko in his sleep, but who, for the most part, was a safe, solid presence. In his bed and in his life. Reliable and ridiculous, chaotic and kind, brilliant and baffling all at once. 

He’d bulldozed his damn way right into Zuko’s life, and now Zuko couldn’t quite imagine what his life would look like without him in it. Or what his bed would look like without him in it. And not just because Sokka was sexy as hell and had a body basically made for being touched and tasted. 

But in this case he was thinking about their sleeping arrangement.

Zuko, when he could sleep, usually slept pretty well if some part of him was touching Sokka (intentional or not). Sometimes it was full on laying on top of Sokka and burying his face in his neck. Sometimes it was just a brush of fingertips, a foot hooked over another. He might still have the occasional nightmares, but they were short-lived and nonspecific. A moment of short-lived confusion and fright and then a quick reassurance that he was in his bed, in his adult body, and far removed from those old fears. Nothing that disturbed Sokka and nothing that was worth mentioning the next day. He could pull the blanket back up around himself, tuck a leg around one of Sokka’s or press his face between Sokka’s shoulder blades and curve around him, and fall asleep again.

This time was different.

The dream was too vivid and too real and too strong. Zuko was small and he was terrified and his father was angry. Zuko didn't know what he'd done wrong but he'd done  _ something _ and now he had to pay. His dad was huge, the whole room, the whole world, and there was nowhere possible for Zuko to go. He was in his childhood kitchen, the kettle shrieking on the stove. He backed up into a wall, his heart pounding, his father faceless and looming. He couldn’t breathe, strangled by the panic of incoming punishment, knowing he was in trouble, that he couldn't escape it. Everything was blurry like looking through only his left eye, the world hazy with red. His father was coming closer, his hand filled with fire.

Zuko didn't yell, but he lurched awake still, sitting up and gasping for air, hands struggling outward. He forced his eyes to stay open, the dream to stay back, but his breath was still too fast. He pressed his hands to his chest, some part of him still convinced it was real, sure he’d blink again and he’d be back in that kitchen, that his dad would be there again. He could feel his heart through his ribcage, loud and fast, and tried to breathe. Slow breaths, inhale and exhale. Control his thoughts, remind himself of real life. There were safe places in his mind, the distance between memory and reality that he'd built in therapy. He tried to find them now, forcing air into his lungs, but he was still shaking. Rubbing his chest wasn't helping, and his hands were shivering, and he couldn’t get out of it. 

Fuck. Fuck, what did he do? What was he supposed to do now? How was he supposed to get back to sleep again?

He could just get up, take the dog on a middle of the night walk or do a grocery run. He could even just head to the living room and watch a movie on his laptop or something. Just accept that he was awake and operate like this was normal. He'd be tired and feel like shit tomorrow, but it wouldn't be the first time. His hands were clammy as he dragged them down his face, the images still too vivid, his heart too loud.

Beside where he sat, nervous and deliberating, Sokka murmured in his sleep and shifted, his hand accidentally brushing against Zuko's leg. Zuko twitched in surprise, looking back toward him in the dark, making out just the vaguest shape of him laying there on his back, peaceful and safe. The outline of his cheekbone and his nose, the curve of his shoulder, the steady rises and falls of his chest. 

Zuko wanted to reach for that chest, press his hand against it, feel the slow beat of Sokka’s heart, the warmth of his skin, the steady movement of his breath. He wanted to be needy and pathetic, wishing Sokka was awake so he could stroke the hair back from Zuko’s face and cup his cheek and rub his neck, murmur stupid pet names and make him a plan and tell him it was fine.

Zuko couldn't. He couldn't bother him, wake him up, upset him. That wasn't fair, wasn't ok, wasn't what Sokka had signed up for.

But Zuko remembered a stupid, early-morning pinky promise, remembered a hand smoothing lotion into his scar, a dragon drawn on a mirror, a steady stream of scheduling and humor and reassurance. He remembered an awful lot of support, a lot of hand squeezes and sweet declarations and nights spent curled up together, a lot of Sokka loving him through his bullshit.

So maybe… maybe. 

Zuko made himself lay back down and take another breath, staring up at the ceiling. The images were right there behind his eyelids, waiting, making his chest tighten again. He couldn’t shut his eyes, couldn’t get himself to relax. 

Sokka was beside him, dead asleep, but maybe… 

Zuko scooted closer and touched his arm, just barely, just enough to have contact, have something. Maybe that would ground him enough, that little bit of contact that was familiar and safe. The smooth, memorized texture of Sokka's skin, the feel of it under his fingertips. It was something. Maybe it would calm him without bothering Sokka. 

"You ok?" came Sokka's voice anyway, a mumbled whisper, closer to his sleep-mutters than his waking voice. 

“Sorry,” Zuko whispered back. “I didn’t mean to…”

Without prompting, Sokka shifted closer and raised his arm, immediately inviting Zuko into his side. 

Zuko’s heart thumped more loudly, his throat tight. His fingers had lost contact with Sokka’s arm, but now here was that safe space again, being offered. He took the invitation, pressed himself into Sokka’s chest, into the space under his shoulder where he somehow so easily fit. He rested his cheek against the soft fabric of his shirt, extra warm from sleep, and Sokka's arm immediately wrapped around him, rubbing over his shoulder a little.

"'s ok," he said in that same sleepy mumble. "I got'chu."

Zuko's chest hurt with something entirely different now, but he tucked himself in closer, careful of the cast on Sokka's leg.

"Thank you," he whispered, slipping a hand around Sokka's side.

Zuko's heart was wrung out, making his body ache a little more and his eyes prickle. He pressed his face harder into Sokka's chest, breathing in the warm scent of him. He did sorta smell like Christmas, if Christmas meant home and family and comfortable clothes and a house full of love. Even drunk off his ass and so early on in their relationship, apparently Zuko had known deep down what this man would be to him.

"I… I needed this--needed you," he murmured, nuzzling his face against the soft shirt and the solidness of the body beneath it. "Thank you…"

"’course. You’re my favorite," Sokka muttered, giving Zuko's shoulder a quick little pat before returning right back to his slow, sleep breathing, and Zuko made a soft noise like a laugh. 

It was just so Sokka to do this, to be like this. Zuko didn't deserve him at all, but my god was he glad he had him anyway.

"I love you so much," he whispered and let his eyes stay shut.

Sokka made a noise that might have been an affirmative but might have just been a kind of snore. It was reassuring either way. His hand moved against to rub at Zuko's shoulder, and he let out another slow exhale. Zuko matched his breathing to Sokka's, steady and rhythmic and relaxed, and focused just on that. Just on Sokka, and the safe circle of his arms, the home he had here with him. Because of him. 

It took a little while, but he managed to get to sleep again, still curled up tight against Sokka’s side.

In the morning, he woke to Sokka stroking his shoulder gently, back and forth like an afterthought or the way he constantly twitched his feet when he was sitting still and thinking about something. He was browsing his phone with his other hand, the room soft with morning light, and Zuko didn't move yet. He didn't want to. The scene was too nice, Sokka's absent touches and the sound of a cat sneaking up and rubbing against one of his legs, the dog sighing from the foot of the bed, cars going by outside. Safe. Home. 

Zuko moved against him, stretching a little without totally detangling, and the rubbing on his shoulder stopped. Zuko looked up at his face, taking a slow, deep breath.

"Did you hear what our damn governor did?" Sokka asked with the pinch of a frown at the corner of his lips.

Zuko smiled and settled back against him, shutting his eyes again. "Good morning to you too," he murmured.

"Right, sorry," Sokka replied, the rubbing starting again. "No talking to Zuko about the state of the world until he's had coffee."

Zuko hummed into his chest and pressed closer, and Sokka returned to browsing, only occasionally grumbling under his breath about politics. Zuko slid a hand up and down his side and tucked his face further into his chest.

"You're cuddly this morning," Sokka said, the smile obvious in his voice.

"Well, it's just... I’m grateful for last night," Zuko said quietly, because he figured he should, what with Sokka taking care of him at god-knows what hour and with no warning.

"What, making boxed mac and cheese?" Sokka replied. "Good god, I know I'm a pretty shitty cook but I'm not  _ that  _ pathetic."

"No, not--" Zuko drew his face back to look at him. "For the middle of the night."

Sokka's eyebrows drew together. "What are you talking about?"

“I… woke you up last night?” Zuko said, and Sokka cocked his head.

“When?”

“I don’t know,” Zuko answered, “but you… made space for me to cuddle you?"

Sokka continued to stare at him.

"Why?"

Zuko shook his head. "I mean, I maybe should've told you before that I... get nightmares sometimes." 

"Oh, hon, I'm sorry…" Sokka said, and Zuko just shook his head.

"No, it's ok--lot of therapy so mostly it’s fine now," Zuko replied, "but just, last night…" He licked his lips. "I had a bad one again and you were all nice and reassured me." He cocked an eyebrow. "This seriously doesn't ring any bells?"

Sokka still looked baffled. "No? Was it… another dream?"

"I don't think so," Zuko said, heart swelling strangely. "I definitely think it happened."

"Huh," Sokka said, dropping a kiss on his forehead. "Did it help at least?"

Zuko held him tighter. "Yeah. So much."

"Good," Sokka said fondly. "Too bad I have literally no memory of this."

Zuko smiled. "Yeah, well apparently we're at a point where your subconscious just… takes care of me."

Sokka chuckled and rubbed his shoulder again. "Well, good on my subconscious then," he replied.

"No kidding," Zuko murmured, still aware of that very full feeling in his chest.

Sokka moved to tip Zuko's face back up toward him. "You ok now?" he asked, giving him a soft kiss like punctuation, which made Zuko's heart feel even more full.

Zuko caught the back of his head and kissed him more firmly, letting it linger, and Sokka laughed a little bit as he drew back. He stroked Zuko's cheek.

"Yes," Zuko answered, brushing a strand of hair out of Sokka’s face as he stared up at him, "more than ok, sweetheart. So much more than ok."

**Author's Note:**

> This is completely self-indulgent and a little secret thank-you to my partner, who has done this exact thing for me multiple times when I can't get to sleep or wake up because of anxiety and sneak over to him for help while he's asleep, and I'm now convinced that someone cuddling or comforting you while they're not even awake is the truest expression of love that there is. So here's a Midwest Zukka version of that so we can all just live vicariously through the sweetness and comfort :)


End file.
